


Flash Bang

by SheWhoWalksUnseen



Series: Desperate For Changing, Starving For Truth [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, M/M, Mentions of Abuse and Panic Attacks, Mentions of Background Characters, Minor Lisa/Shawna, Team Flash as Villains and The Rogues as Heroes, excessive use of puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoWalksUnseen/pseuds/SheWhoWalksUnseen
Summary: What was a hero without a villain, after all?





	Flash Bang

**Author's Note:**

> I promised more role reversal (and that I'd post something finally for Coldflash Weeks) and I was determined not to disappoint. :) Albeit, this is very late into the night but I've been trying to write this in under a week with very little time to do so, so here's hoping the wait was worth it.

“Someone’s been making _what_?”

Hartley rolled his eyes and muttered something crude under his breath, moving to grab his tablet. Lisa was late bringing back coffee, having waved off Len’s half-hearted offer to flash over to _Jitters_ and pick up some drinks for the rest of them, and Hartley looked like he’d been up all night working. The man was hardly coherent without his morning caffeine.

At least he’d remembered to put in his hearing aids this time. That’d been an awkward morning – mostly since none of them had realized they weren’t in in the first place and once they did Axel insisted on using a combination of charades and ASL to translate all their conversations until they found them. The look on Hartley’s face when Axel had started signing back would’ve been funnier if Len hadn’t been busy staring himself.

Sometimes Len forgot the kid wasn’t just a prankster in his spare time.

“Anti-meta guns,” Shawna explained, ever the sensible one of their rag-tag team. She plucked the tablet from Hartley’s hands and ignored his weak protest as she spun it around to show Len the image of the weapon onscreen. The model was sleek and gray, the barrel pulsing a strange blue as he stepped closer to get a better look. “Well, anti-meta guns against _you_ specifically, it seems.”

“Me?” Len met her eyes and the doctor pursed her lips.

“You’re all over the news,” Axel explained, spinning around in his rolling chair to face them with an oddly serious look. While Len was grateful that he’d stopped throwing himself around in dizzying circles, he wasn’t sure he liked a sober Axel. “You’ve stopped more crime in the last month than the CCPD – which, by the way, is awesome – but not everyone…appreciates that. Metas and non-metas alike.”

Len couldn’t say he was wholly surprised. He knew he was pissing off folk around Central City left and right, especially the metahumans who didn’t take too kindly to being stopped in their tracks in the middle of terrorizing innocent people. Lisa and Mick had mentioned more than a few cops and coworkers uniformly weren’t pleased with his efforts as a masked vigilante.

“They think you’re showing them up at their jobs,” Lisa had said when Len laughed. “They’re idiots, but some see a speedy dick out there who could turn into a public menace instead of a superhero. It’s the way of the world.”

Disliking his alter ego was fine by him. If Len were in some hard-ass cop’s shoes, or even in his former-thief’s shoes, he’d have similar feelings toward a mysterious streak roaming the city. Well, truthfully, Len would be more interested in piecing together everything he knew about said streak and uncovering its identity, but that was beside the point.

Someone creating weapons with the aim of actively hurting him, however, was something that could become a problem. Or worse, an actual threat.

“Have they used this gun yet?” Len waved a hand toward the screen. “Out in public, on the streets, I mean.”

Shawna shook her head. “No, thank god. But whoever they are, they probably will soon.”

“How’d you get the blueprints in the first place?” Lisa stepped into the Cortex, her heels clicking against the floor as Axel made grabby hands for the tray of coffee. Hartley perked up as well at the sight of liquid caffeine and Len didn’t bother hiding his amusement as he accepted his coffee with gusto, taking a big gulp. “That gun doesn’t look cheap. Whoever made this knows their stuff.”

Shawna hesitated before taking her own drink from Lisa, color rising to her cheeks as she looked away from Lisa’s inquiring gaze and played with the sticker label on the side. “I, uh, my ex. He’s on the run right now but he mentioned having to supply this guy with the right materials – something about needing the right temperature and test subjects.”

Len raised an eyebrow. “On the run?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shawna chided, placing the tablet down on the table. She took a sip from her cappuccino and hummed quietly. Len didn’t miss the way Lisa eyed the curl of her lips around the straw (though he kind of wished he had). “He’s a thief, not a bad guy. Besides, you have no room to judge, Mr. I-Only-Recently-Became-A-Vigilante.”

“Wasn’t judging,” Len assured her, holding up his hands. “Just clarifying.”

“I once had an ex who was a firefighter,” Hartley bemoaned while grimacing at Axel due to the way he was slurping his coffee noisily. “I think he stole some priceless jewelry from this lady whose house caught fire, though.”

Axel did pause then and leaned in, intrigued. “Did he go to jail?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Damn.” Axel leaned back with a frown. “You two could’ve been criminal exes buddies.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Shawna said loudly, clearing her throat, “Clay said the guy who asked him to get the parts for this gun was trying to ensure they could create a micro-engine that generates a blast of absolute zero. If these blueprints are correct, then he could do some serious damage, even with your accelerated healing.”

It was Lisa’s turn to frown; she lowered her own coffee and stepped forward to get a better look at the tablet Shawna had set aside. Len was certain the way she brushed Shawna’s side as she did so was entirely on purpose despite the genuine worry in her eyes. “How do you know this gun was made for Lenny, though? It could just be for killing anyone who gets in this person’s way, if the blast is that powerful.”

“Nah,” Axel shook his head and waggled a finger at her, “no way. It’s simple – hot versus cold, ya know? Lenny’s a lightning rod, he generates heat. You need something so cold it’ll stop him right in his tracks.”

“Don’t call me that,” Len warned.

“Axel’s right,” Shawna confirmed. “That’s…the short and easy version of it, at least. At the very least, it’ll give him frostbite burns if its user decides to up the blast.”

Lisa didn’t turn away from the tablet but her shoulders tensed. “At worst?”

“It won’t come to that,” Len cut in, not liking the way Shawna hesitated again. Lisa was beginning to get that look on her face, the one that meant she was seconds from pulling her brother out of the fray even when there was no immediate danger. “Your ex – he know the maker’s name?”

The alarm went off in the Cortex before she could reply. Hartley winced at the noise, though he already looked more alert thanks to the caffeine, and Axel patted him on the arm sympathetically before he spun around in his chair to get a better look at his computer screen.

His face lit up with delight. Axel drew the strangest joy out of announcing the latest crime in Central City. “Armored truck robbery at 4th and Collins!”

Len handed Shawna his coffee and changed into his suit (“ _my_ suit”, a voice sounding suspiciously like Hartley’s grumbled petulantly in the back of his mind) before the doctor could do more than blink at his afterimage as he sprinted out of S.T.A.R. Labs.

One perk from his newly-gained superspeed came from the way the world slowed at miniscule increments around him as he ran, giving Len time to take stock of the situation at hand and cheat time itself by arriving on the scene just seconds after bolting from the Labs. Even before he had taken a one-eighty in career choices, Len prided himself in his close observations and strategic skills. Whereas Mick had once been the (metaphorical) brawn, Len was the brains and Mick poked fun at him to this day about his tendency to form backup plan after backup plan for every situation imaginable.

It came, he supposed with a grim twist of his lips, from his father’s own sloppy incompetence. Len couldn’t settle for half-assed plans without noting every variable, plotting for everything that could go wrong from a guard taking an extra minute on his shift to tellers calling the police at a bank.

Running onto the scene, he took in the armored truck, tires blown as it sat motionless in the middle of the road. There were two - _no, three_ , Len realized as he spied a black masked head poking out from on top of the vehicle - figures, all masked in slender bodysuits. The motorcycles resting a few feet from the truck seemed to belong to them.

A quick glance toward the inside of the truck’s front revealed the men weren’t dead, merely knocked unconscious by the truck being jolted to a stop. Good. The last thing he needed were more variables, more people’s lives to take into account.

Len wasted no time: he burst forward, knocking the two thieves lingering near the back of the truck onto their backs before spinning on his heel, lightning kicking at his calves as he pulled the remaining thief out by the scruff of their neck and tossing them onto the pavement. Thankfully, the safe inside appeared to be shut tight, unmoved despite the state the door was in. He had a feeling it had to do with the tanks on the criminals’ backs - liquid nitrogen most likely.

These were no amateurs, then. Not that the thought pleased Len, but. Well.

Rescuing cats up trees and stopping small storefront robberies wasn’t nearly as fun as stopping someone who _knew_ what they were doing, alright?

Gunshots yanked him from his musing. Len dodged with ease, spying the culprits as the two criminals he’d knocked over. They’d gotten up fairly quick, taking cover by their bikes as if they’d prove to be viable cover from his speed.

Okay, perhaps they weren’t that bright after all.

Len darted at them, swiping the guns aside. He swore he heard one of them gasp - definitely feminine despite the mask muffling the voice - and grinned to himself before he laid them out on the ground again.

A faint whine caught his attention and Len barely managed to speed away from the pair before a blast of energy, whitish blue in a way that was eerily familiar, took his place inches from the bikes. Despite the distance he put between himself and the blast, his skin prickled at the sudden permeating chill in the air. Through the material of his suit he could _feel_ goosebumps forming, the hairs on his arms rising, alert and wary.

Nothing seemed to keep this group down for long, huh?

The thief, his mask fallen and lying half-under the truck, raised the gun again with a quirk of his lips. Len took a split-second to halt time, to catalogue the features of the other man’s face. No, perhaps not a man with that baby-face. He had to be no more than twenty, twenty-one. No amount of stubble could hide the youthful fire behind those hazel eyes alongside something stony flickering within the flames.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” the kid called, the smirk growing as he stepped forward. Len watched and waited, not trusting the gleam in his eyes. Besides, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t bolt if the kid decided to shoot. “A lot quicker than I expected.”

“Been expecting me?” Len teased despite the pause the words gave him. _Expected?_ He hadn’t exactly been active enough - or well known as anything other than a streak of light, according to Lisa’s scouring for public information on his alter ego online - to warrant this kind of attention.

The thief just shook his head. “Not quite. But,” and there was that _frosty_ glint again, “I suppose you’ll do.”

Len tensed, ready to charge, kid or no kid, but the sharp bloom of pain in his right shoulder made me shout in surprise. He darted out of the way before the slimmer of the two criminals - he’d forgotten about the others, of _course_ they were aiming to distract him - could hit him once more. The whine of the strange gun reached Len’s ears but he was too busy dodging bullets to run out of the beam’s path.

None of Len’s backup plans could’ve prepared him for the way he skidded to a stop, blown backward by the impregnable chill searing his insides, unable to cry out as he struck a light pole. Len practically could hear Lisa chiding him in the back of his head, scolding him for almost breaking his back - though with his quick healing, perhaps that was no longer an issue.

But, even with his mending flesh, he could feel the frostbite burning through his veins and it took great effort not to collapse face-first onto the pavement. Fuck, he was getting too old for this. Why had vigilantism been a good idea?

He faintly registered that the comms seemed to be online, his sister’s concerned demands drowning out Hartley’s questions. Len forced himself to his feet and dodged another blast, but the damage down by the previous one slowed him down enough to get thrown off his feet a second time.

“Your vitals are dropping!” Shawna’s voice cut through Lisa’s worry, though he could hear her own unease through the crawling ice over his red-clad chest. “Leonard, whatever he’s hitting you with - ”

“I’m not healing, am I?” he ground out, managing to flash toward the two masked thieves. He swiped the guns and emptied the barrels in one swift motion, a mere blur to the normal eye, and swung the weapon at the slimmer figure (likely the woman) to knock her out for good. The other crook dove for cover as another blast from the strange gun, aimed for Len’s frostbitten chest, sped their way. Len ducked behind the truck to avoid getting struck.

This kid was starting to piss him off.

“Your regeneration has been slowed severely. If you weren’t a meta, they’d be frozen over completely and the damage would be a lot worse.”

“Are the police on their way?”

“They’ll be there in less than a minute,” Hartley informed him. His voice was the steadiest, and part of Len appreciated that he’d stopped shouting like Lisa was. “If they’re too much for you - ”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Lenny,” Lisa growled, her irritation shielding the concern laced in her tone, “get _out_ of there!”

“ _Lisa_ \- ”

“This is no ordinary blast, the meta could kill you!”

Len heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving and bit back a curse. Fuck. He couldn’t let them get away. He sped around the truck, heading for the unmasked thief whose smirk hadn’t let up in the slightest. Cocky little shit.

“They’re no metas. One’s got a gun, looks something like that tech you were showing us earlier, doc.”

Shawna’s breath hitched far too close to the mic and he winced. “Are you sure?”

“Same blue glow, looks like the same style gun. It’s emitting this cold ray of sorts.”

Someone - probably Lisa - swore under their breath. Len narrowly avoided the next beam of frost and had to dodge the motorcycles speeding past him before they ran him over. He was about to surge after them but the thief shot him again, sending Len sprawling with a hiss as the cold made him shiver. Lisa shouted his name again but he hardly heard, pushing himself up with a tremble that wracked his limbs.

“Gotta say,” the thief - this cocky, baby-faced _kid_ who thought this was a game - said with blatant bemusement, “you’re not very good at this hero thing, are you? Or, whatever it is you’re playing at, flashing around like a lightning bug on steroids.”

Len lifted his head and glared, not caring that the other wouldn’t be able to make out much of his face with the cowl covering most of it. “Bet you’re real proud of that comparison. How long’d it take you to work on it, kiddo?”

A spark of irritation finally dawned on the thief’s face. “I’m no kid.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Len got to his feet, hating how his knees threatened to buckle as a shudder ran through him. He needed to get out of there before the frostbite burns worsened, healing or no healing. “Don’t suppose I’ve done anything that warrants such a _frosty_ reception, though.”

The thief stared at him and Len heard Hartley’s warning of the police closing in within half a minute distantly via his comms. “That pun was _terrible_."

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“What does that even - ?” The thief shook himself, the irritation giving way to exasperation. Maybe it was the pain, but Len could’ve sworn he saw that smirk soften at its edges. “Never mind. And it’s not about what _you’ve_ done. Yet.”

“Yet?”

The gun lowered and Len’s brow pinched as the kid swung his legs over his own motorcycle, and any softness he imagined was gone; he bared his teeth at Len in poor semblance of a smile.

“You win. This time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

He _really_ didn’t like the way the thief scanned his masked face, the simple flick of his eyes burning through his suit, through his flesh like the frostbite licking its way over his chest. “Says you.”

Len gritted his teeth and made to run after him as the engine kicked into gear but Shawna and Lisa’s pleas for him to return, coupled with the police sirens approaching and his injuries, forced him to speed in the opposite direction, against his better judgment, his veins throbbing with every movement.

The only next time coming would end with that ass behind bars.

(A rather nice ass, he had to admit.)

The worst part was, Lisa had joked about him winding up with a nemesis one of these days, what with the rising rumors about his identity and exploits.

But he hadn’t thought to take her _seriously, damn it._

 

***

 

“What crawled up your ass?” Mick asked from the kitchen counter, an eyebrow climbing up his forehead.

Len fought the urge to snap at him for prying; he’d already had to talk down Lisa from confining him to S.T.A.R. Labs on bedrest, and Shawna had been close behind. Which was _not_ necessary, but the state that he’d sprinted into the Cortex yesterday, half-dazed and gnawing the side of his cheek to keep from crying out as his burns itched against his suit, hadn’t inspired much confidence for his health.

Shawna insisted on treating him for at least an hour, though, while Axel and Hartley helped pry the suit carefully off his sensitive skin, and demanded to know every detail about the crooks and their advanced tech. The doctor’s shoulders slumped upon comparing Len’s injuries and the description of the gun to the blueprints she’d shown them earlier. That was all the answer he needed.

His healing was working overtime to patch up his blackened frostbite burns and they were nearly gone by dinner, but Len still got twinges around the regenerating skin on his chest, as if his flesh sensed something was _meant_ to hurt. Not to mention the faint pain in his back from crashing into that light pole.

If he ever saw that kid again, he was going to blast him with his own gun, see how _he’d_ like getting frozen from the inside.

Still, he had to hand it to the thief: however he’d obtained the gun (“I suppose you could call it a _cold_ gun,” Axel had teased, trying to lighten the scowl Hartley leveled toward the damage the gun had done to the suit), Len had a hunch that the robbery hadn’t revolved around stealing whatever was in that safe. After all, none of them had gone back for the goods. The thief - whom he assumed was the leader of the trio - only stayed behind to taunt and shoot at Len.

And then there was that unnerving throwaway comment: _A lot quicker than I expected._

How had he been certain that Len would show up? Not all crimes in Central were paid a visit by his alter ego. He didn’t like the look on the kid’s face, that glimpse of something angry and bitter behind his playful words.

Whoever the thief was, the gun’s purpose wasn’t lost on Len.

Realizing Mick was still waiting on an answer, he huffed and turned back to his burger, picking at the lettuce poking out of the bun. “Lisa tell you about the robbery?”

“No.” Len glanced over with an incredulous look and Mick snorted. “Got to visit the scene myself, didn’t need her calling me up. I _am_ a cop, ya know.”

Len’s mouth twitched. “Couldn’t tell.”

“Your fast ass couldn’t catch ’em, though?”

“One of them had a gun - not a normal gun, a weapon that shot blasts of absolute zero instead of bullets.” Len twisted carefully to lift his Henley enough for his friend to spy the fading frostbite searing his flesh.

Mick’s amusement vanished and his eyes narrowed. “ _Fuck_ , Lenny.” Len winced; Mick only called him “Lenny” when he was well and truly worried, sticking to a simple “Snart” (or “boss”, back when they’d been partners) for the most part. “Aren’t you supposed to be healing?”

“I am. Just - very slowly.” He pushed the hem of his shirt down, hating how Mick’s eyes followed the movement with ill-disguised concern. “Apparently the cold counteracts the speed. Something about being opposites according to the doc. She thinks it was made specifically for me.”

“Not your ordinary crooks, then.”

Len shook his head. “No. The kid with the gun said something about expecting me, about something I ‘hadn’t done’, and a ‘next time’.”

“He know who you were?”

“No, but he definitely came prepared.”

Mick hummed but a frown pulled a harsh path across his features the longer he stared. “You said he was a kid?”

“He lost his mask,” Len explained. “Probably in his twenties, but he’s got a baby-face, could be younger.”

“I’ll look him up. Don’t suppose you saw the others’ faces?”

“No, but one of them was definitely female.”

Mick took a bite from his burger, taking his eyes away from Len to glare thoughtfully at his meal. He had the same look on his face that he used to get around fire, the musing blank stare that signalled nowadays that he was merely lost in thought. Len couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved by the change - as much as he and Mick had an agreement not to bring up their days of crime anymore, Mick’s enthrallment with fire was a point of contention Len was (admittedly) grateful to the CCPD and the police academy for helping him learn to control.

Not that Len didn’t miss the old days, robbing banks and scanning blueprints late at night after a couple of beers with Mick.

“Think I might know who you’re talking ’bout,” Mick spoke slowly after a long moment.

Len leaned forward. “The woman or…?”

“The kid. Though,” he grimaced, “if I’m right...won’t be hard to guess who she is. I’ll call up West at the precinct, see if prison records are there. You’d be able to recognize his face?”

“Couldn’t forget it if I tried.”

Mick snorted, but he seemed relieved when he pushed back from the counter, moving to grab his phone. The longing look he sent his half-eaten burger almost made Len want to laugh but he was grateful his friend understood the urgency of the situation. “Be right back. Don’t eat that.”

Len rolled his eyes and watched Mick’s retreating back until he was out of the room. Something - he wasn’t sure what, exactly, but _something_ kept rolling in his gut like he’d eaten a bad omelet. Maybe it was a side effect of the gun.

The look on Mick’s face, though...it was bothersome. If he already knew from a barebone description of the incident, that spelled nothing good.

Hopefully, his cop partner had some answers at hand.

 

***

 

Len’s phone was buzzing. It was four in the goddamn morning and _his phone was buzzing_.

He suppressed the childish urge to burrow his head under his pillow and reached out blindly in the dark to grab his phone off the table. It took him a couple of tries for his thumb to hit the correct button and he flopped back onto the pillow the moment he saw _Trickster_ flashing across the top of the screen.

“Axel, I _swear_ , if you decided to wake me up for a prank call, I’m running over to your apartment and throwing you off the top of - ”

“You gotta get to the Labs!” Len’s eyes flew open. “There’s been a security breach, Hartley managed to kick the guy’s ass but Shawna’s patching him up, and we could really use some help, man!”

He was dressed in the blink of an eye in a jacket and shoes along with the comfiest jeans and sweater he could find and bolting for S.T.A.R. Labs before Axel finished saying the word _breach_. The kid whipped around as he sped into the Cortex, batting away strays papers that were blown about by Len’s makeshift breeze. A couple of bruises littered the kid’s jaw, but Axel’s relief was palpable; he immediately hung up and smiled at Len.

“You have _no_ idea how happy I am to see you, man.”

“What happened?” Len walked past him into the Cortex, scanning the room for any signs of damage or struggle. Didn’t he say there’d been a fight? “Better yet, _how_ did this happen?”

“Well, we’re not in the best shape, in case you haven’t noticed. Our security’s been acting up since the Accelerator went off, but Hartley’s gotten most of our cameras and security up and running since then. Tonight, though, we were staying late - to analyze the gun with Shawna - when we got an alert that someone was in the elevator already. And…” Axel’s smile drooped. “We only had a minute before the guy came in here. I don’t think he...uh, expected _people_ to still be here.”

Len cast a frown in Axel’s direction. “I’m sure half the city thinks this place is abandoned, but - ”

“He was trying to steal from us.” They both turned to see Shawna in the doorway to the medical wing. The bags under her eyes were prominent, her expression drawn as if she’d been running on caffeine along for the last few hours.

Axel started to perk up. “How’s Hart’s head?”

Shawna’s eyes flitted to Len and his stomach clenched at the mixed worry and exhaustion staring back at him. “He’ll live. He’s asleep, but I’m likely gonna stay overnight to make sure he stays in bed. Thank god the vomiting stopped at least.”

“What do you mean he was trying to steal something?” Len redirected the conversation, hoping to get back to the more immediate problem at hand. “Was it a meta?”

“No, he was human.” Shawna turned around to grab something on one of the tables behind her before walking toward them. Len’s first instinct, ashamedly, was to bolt at first glance. Not from Shawna, but from the _very familiar-looking gun_ in hand. Aside from the barrel - which was painted a fiery orange rather than the sleek gray that pulsed blue before freezing Len’s ass earlier - they looked eerily alike. “He was wielding this, though, and he had a flash drive on him. I didn’t plug it in, but I want Hartley to take a look at it when he’s feeling less...”

“Puke-y?” Axel supplied helpfully.

It was a testament to Shawna’s exhaustion that she didn’t roll her eyes at Axel. Then again, Len didn’t know how long it had been since they’d taken down the thief and all of them were still awake at _four in the morning_.

Maybe they needed to have a chat about healthy habits.

“So he was looking for information,” Len mused, glancing at the computers. “Any ideas why?”

Shawna shrugged. “We used to be the top competitor against Mercury Labs. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was someone looking to steal any designs we’ve been too _occupied_ to work on lately.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ in there.”

She shut her eyes. “ _But_ , considering that we’ve faced off against a similar weapon in the last twenty-four hours and this guy _clearly_ knew how to use it… I highly doubt we could chalk this up to corporate warfare.”

Axel walked over and pried the gun from Shawna’s fingers (which Len noticed were twitching faintly as if they’d forgotten how to work, perhaps more exhaustion at work). “Yeah, this thief was either a friend of your Captain Cold buddy earlier today or - ”

“My _what_?”

“Captain Cold.” Axel beamed and Len reminded himself that most of them were running on no sleep and it wouldn’t be prudent to groan in the face of the delirious glee on Axel’s expression. “I figured if he’s gonna be your nemesis - ”

“I don’t _have_ a nemesis. Don’t even have a vigilante name myself, kiddo.”

“ - well, then he’s gotta have a sweet name! This second guy, though, he either made a similar gun on accident or he’s a friend of your new nemesis.”

“What does it do?”

“Oh! I’ll show you!” Len tried not to jerk back as the kid waved the gun around while he spoke, aiming it at the nearest wall. The undisguised enthusiasm on his face was...concerning.

Len glanced at Shawna meaningfully - because there was no way _she_ could approve of this -  but he hardly needed to worry. She was already hurrying over to stop the kid from pulling the trigger.

“ _Not_ necessary, Axel!”

“Just one squeeze?”

“I already have one patient tonight, I’m not treating you for third-degree burns!”

“Fire and ice, then?” Len snorted at the pout Axel sent Shawna as he handed over his new toy with reluctance. “The thief wasn’t the same one I unmasked, was he?”

“No.” Shawna set the gun down by the computers, far out of Axel’s reach, a little harder than necessary. “His voice didn’t sound the same as the other’s over the comms. I managed to look him up - Axel, could you get my tablet in there?” She gestured toward the medical wing. “And please don’t disturb Hartley, he just went to sleep - ”

“I got it!”

She rubbed her temples as the engineer ran off. Len was tempted to call his sister for a second, or suggest that the doctor call her herself, if there was a chance it’d lift her spirits. It was clear the break-in had taken its toll on her sleep-deprived mind more than the others’.

“You need a...rest? Or coffee?”

Shawna shook her head, but she flashed a thin smile toward Len. “No, I’m good. Just...it’s been a long night. Axel’s been trying to cheer me up but he was...he was really worried about Hartley.” She bit her lip. “He was the one who demanded we call you in the first place after we put the thief in the pipeline for now.”

“The pipeline?”

“I - oh, thanks,” Shawna blinked at Axel’s quick return, the kid almost tripping with how fast he sprinted back into the room. It was a miracle he didn’t shatter the tablet. She took it more gingerly from his grip and tapped a couple of times on the screen before spinning it around for Len to see (and boy, didn’t that deja vu hit him _hard_ ).

He accepted the tablet and scrolled through the mugshots and information flickering across the screen. A man with long dark hair frowned up at him from the tablet, his dark eyes angry as they held Len’s stare, his hands clenched over his prison placard. He looked just as young as the unmasked thief on road, unspoken challenge written on his face.

A _Francisco Ramon_ , it seemed. In another life, he and Mick could’ve bonded over their history of arson and burglary.

“He used to be an engineer,” Shawna said, despite the fact that Len could read the information in front of him. “Got in an accident at Mercury Labs late one night and when they sent him to the hospital, he wound up escaping. Blamed the place for his burns.”

Alright, perhaps he and Mick weren’t _quite_ so alike. “Doesn’t explain why he’s got this heat gun now.”

Axel and Shawna exchanged looks and the latter winced. “Well, we think he’s an ally of this... _Captain Cold_. The make of the guns are very similar, so they had to have been made by the same person. And if my hunch is right…”

“We think he made the guns,” Axel finished.

Len glanced down at the screen. Ramon’s scowl offered no answers. “Would make sense, with his engineering expertise. If he was the other man in the crew earlier, though, why didn’t he use this gun?”

“Cold mentioned something about expecting you. Maybe it was a test?” Shawna offered.

“But why break into S.T.A.R. Labs if he was already an engineering whiz?”

“We used to be the top competitor in technology and engineering,” Axel said. “If he’s looking for inspiration for advanced tech, it’d be here. Plus, it’s not like Ramon would go back to Mercury after the accident.”

“Hartley’ll be able to get a better look at the drive once he’s feeling better,” Shawna added quickly, “so we won’t have to wonder about that for long.”

Len handed back the tablet to her and contemplated taking a nap, running home to the apartment and getting some sleep before dealing with this mess. Somehow he doubted getting woken up at four a.m. to deal with arsonists was a normal part of this vigilante business.

Still, one look at Axel’s tight smile and the yawn Shawna made to hide behind a fist was enough to cement his resolve. He didn’t know Axel and Shawna (or even Hartley) well, aside from what they’d mentioned in passing conversations or Lisa’s frequent texting with the doctor, but there was something about the rag-tag group that reminded him of his own companionship with Mick and Lisa. Hartley had been thrust into ownership of the Labs with little preamble, yet he seemed to have bonded with Shawna and Axel in the aftermath of the Particle Accelerator fairly quick. It couldn’t have been easy going from a respected scientific research company to a defunct facility now housing a coma-patient-turned-metahuman.

Besides, it was only fair to investigate the situation further with both of his team - when had he begun thinking of them as _his_ team? - sleep-deprived and frazzled from an attack. 

“Well, where’s this pipeline you mentioned?”

 

***

 

Ramon snorted as the doors slid open, his scowl identical to the one on Shawna’s tablet screen even after the years since prison. His hair was a little longer, brushing his shoulders in a tangled mess, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t changed a bit. He crossed his arms over his chest, his black clothes standing stark against the blue padded walls of the pipeline cell.

“Took you long enough. Maybe invest in a bed or something, man, this thing isn’t exactly comfy.”

Len, clad in his red suit, stepped closer to the glass, tilting his head. Axel had assured him that they’d keep watch upstairs from the security cameras and he wondered for a moment what he’d look like onscreen with his blurred face, staring down their trespasser in silence.

Shawna mentioned the pipeline had once led into the Particle Accelerator, though it’d been abandoned during Len’s superpowered-nap for obvious reasons. It seemed to be fashioning well as a prison cell right now, but Shawna had been quick to explain that they could turn Ramon in to Mick and the rest of the police when they were done interrogating him. He couldn’t say he was upset by the notion; Ramon hardly looked comfortable, despite his sardonic mockery of the dilemma at hand.

“Why did you come here?” Len demanded, his vocal chords’ distorted tone echoing in the hallway. “What were you looking for?”

“Nothing important. Rathaway awake?”

How did - ? Ah, right. Sometimes he forgot the kid had once been a public figure before getting disowned and shoved at S.T.A.R. Labs. “No, not yet. Why?”

The thief’s eyes glittered in the dim lighting. “Was hoping I could punch him for nearly knocking out my tooth.”

Right.

“Look,” Len moved forward, and he tried not to grin at how fast Ramon’s gaze darted to the movement, justifiably wary, “I’m going to be plain with you, Ramon.” _That_ also caught the other’s attention, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly. “We know you made the guns. Both hot and cold, or whatever you wanna call them. You and Cold are clearly after something. Whatever you came to steal, you’re not going to get it, so why don’t you just tell me what the drive was for so we can let you on your way?”

Ramon’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, how about no. I know how this works, Flash. I tell you and then you turn me over to the pigs before I can say a word. You’re just lucky I’m behind glass and your snooty science pals took my gun or you’d be barbecue by now.”

Any satisfaction Len felt a moment before vanished in the face of confusion. There was a faint buzz from his comms, likely Axel testing the connection - and hopefully _not_ the heat gun. “What did you call me?”

“Flash. You know, like - ” Ramon made a vague motion with his hand, probably trying to indicate Len’s speed or...something. Len just stared blankly. “Hey, I didn’t come up with it, man! It isn’t like you have an actual name, unless you’d like to share _that_ lovely information - ”

“No.” The scowl looked suspiciously like a pout now. Len sighed. “I suppose I have this - ah, _Captain Cold_ , to thank for that.”

Ramon _chuckled_ , pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound as he looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Oh, jeez, did _you_ come up with that one? That’s...well, it’s not _bad_ , I guess but the gun’s meant to emit absolute zero, not necessarily _cold_ \- ”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Len snapped. “But speaking of your _friend_ \- ”

“I’m not telling you anything about him, don’t bother.”

He was beginning to debate whether it’d be immoral to open the cell at slap Ramon upside the head. Was everyone on this little crew so _mouthy_?

“Well, what about the third member of your crew? The woman?”

Ramon, who was still snorting and muttering _Captain Cold_ under his breath - it really wasn’t _that funny_ \- froze for a split-second before recovering with a sneer. “You’re not very good at intimidation, anyone ever tell you that?”

Len slammed a hand against the glass and Ramon startled but made no move to back away. “And your friend seems to know things about me that I’d like an explanation for.”

The criminal studied him in silence, a mimicry of Len’s earlier examination that set his teeth on edge, and the sneer grew. He felt a lick of irritation in his chest, lapping like flames against his healing flesh.

Whatever Ramon found there, he must have enjoyed. He leaned back against the wall of the pipeline cell, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “That’s not my story to tell. Besides, don’t think you need to worry. He’s more interested in answers than hurting you - though you seem to be on your feet rather soon for someone with frostbite.”

“Listen here - ”

“Nah. You should worry more about your shitty security, in any case.” Ramon’s gaze darkened and Len realized with a jolt that it wasn’t anger behind those irises now, no, that was _glee_ -

“He’s right, you know.”

Len turned and dodged the blast of frost in the nick of time, almost ramming into the hall wall as he spun toward the figure at the end of it. Aside from the goggles over his eyes, Cold wore the same black suit he had earlier, his face twisted in fury. He wasn’t even _bothering_ to hide his face unlike earlier. Was it because Len already knew it?

Either way, he wasn’t letting the thief get away easily this time.

Before he could move again, however, Ramon kicked out at the glass, now frozen thanks to the cold blast and -

Aw, fuck. Maybe he hadn’t been aiming at Len at all.

The glass shattered and Cold trained the gun on Len in warning as Ramon stepped carefully out of the cell, a broad grin lighting up the arsonist’s face. Len wondered if he’d be able to disarm the kid faster than he could shoot, but he wasn’t about to test that theory with the prospect of more frostbite burns on the horizon.

“Cait’s upstairs,” Cold told Ramon shortly, nodding his head toward the hall behind him. Ramon hurried past without a backward glance at Len, whose blood ran cold because _the Cortex was upstairs_. He should’ve guessed the moment the comms went dead, damn it. So much for examining the heat gun later. Or that drive, if Shawna hadn’t hidden it elsewhere in the Labs.

They _really_ needed to update the security around the Labs. 

He supposed the endeavor wasn’t a total bust, though. Cold and this Cait’s appearances, along with the steely gaze leveled at him currently, meant not only was Ramon important but they _cared_ about him. Maybe ‘friend’ hadn’t been so far off a label.

“Again with the chilly greeting?” Len spread his hands, noting the jerk in Cold’s trigger finger. “Don’t suppose I can convince you to stand down.”

“You like those puns way too much.” There was nothing playful in his tone now. Len...wasn’t sure he liked this change. “But no, you’re going to sit here a while if you don’t want Cait to shoot your friends.”

Did she have a gun as well? He’d have to ask Shawna later.

“What, you can steal our tech but we can’t steal your crew?”

Yes, there was definitely a twitch in that hand. “Cisco and Cait are off-limits. None of your friends need to get hurt as long as you don’t hurt mine.”

Len’d suspected as much but the _openness_ of the admission, the brazen anger underlying his words, was...unexpected, to say the least. All the more evidence that this was a _kid_ they were facing, not some hardened criminal.

A memory nagged at the back of his mind: his father’s barked commands as his little hands twisted wires in panels and his knees bruised from crawling through vents, Lisa’s tear-stricken face as he urged her upstairs before Lewis returned home. Len swallowed down the lump in his throat with difficulty.

Whoever these kids thought they were, he knew better than most what a shitshow the world could be. He understood turning to crime when no one stood up for you, when no one showed you cops weren’t always abusive drunkards who manipulated their kids into theft.

“Seems fair,” Len conceded. “Though, not my fault he wasn’t speedy enough, kid.”

Cold rolled his eyes. “Seriously? What’s with you and these puns? Do you have an obsession?”

“I’m not the one coming up with names that sound like I’m a streaker in Central City’s public parks!”

Cold ducked his head to hide his laughter, but Len saw the - well, the _cold_ glare fade as his chest shook. “It wasn’t like _you_ were offering any names. Besides, it sounds perfectly fine to me, _Flash_.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that, right?”

That earned him a brighter grin, closer to the smirk from the armored robbery. “So I’ve been told.”

Cold started and raised his free hand to his ear - ah, an earpiece, it had to be - and listened before he muttered something too quiet for Len to hear. He didn’t take his eyes off of Len, as if he knew he was still debating flashing - damn it, that was _unintentional_ \- forward. Not that he would: the kid still seemed too trigger-happy for his taste.

“Looks like we’ll be out of your hair now.” Cold lowered the gun, to his surprise, and rested the barrel on his shoulder. “This was fun. Let’s not do it again.”

 _Don’t touch them again_.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Len said flatly.

Cold grinned wider and turned to leave. Len watched him go, the fading frostbite on his skin tingling as a warning in spite of the ever-present adrenaline and the urge to _run, run, run_.

He was going to enjoy putting that smug thief behind bars.

(Though, when Mick called him not twenty minutes later, out of breath and hyperventilating after an all-too-real dream about living bombs and men of steel and alternate lives, he put Captain Cold out of his head for at least another week to deal with _that_ mess. A vigilante’s work was never done.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me on my DCTV Tumblr @areyouscarletcold. Comments are always appreciated, and have a great day!


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